Limitless Seas 2, Chapter 3.

Chapter 3.

Larson broke the seal on the envelope, surprised to feel a small burst of magic release as he did so. There were no adverse effects, so he pulled out the invitation.

Lord Thurston Mox and Lord Montgomery Buxton hereby invite Captain Larson of the Sea Venom and one guest to attend an event in celebration of the safe return of Jonathan Mox and Theodore Buxton. The event will be held at the Mox estate, and the festivities begin this evening at 9 pm sharp. Proper attire is required for attendance. Recording of your acceptance of this invitation was noted upon breaching the seal.

An ornate signature from both Lord Mox and Lord Buxton finished off the invitation. It looked like the magic burst from the seal was some way to track the number of guests attending, though Larson had no idea that opening the letter was akin to acceptance of the invitation. He would have to be a bit more careful in the future, the norms of this world were different than what he could recall from his own, and now he was locked into attendance. It wouldn’t be smart to snub two of the most powerful men of the city, especially after all he went through to secure their favor.

The ringing of hammers on steel ended further thoughts on parties he didn’t want to attend. Larson was in the smith district, and he worked his way past the larger and more established shops as he headed toward the small area that Felicia Burrowton had claimed as her own. It had only been a short time since Larson had left on his voyage, but he could see she was back to hammering out horseshoes, a task the halfling smith loathed, and one she was very much overqualified for.

“Felicia, hard at it, I see,” Larson greeted. Most of her shop was outdoors, including the forge and worktables. The small building on the property was stuffed with materials as well as her living space. She looked up, annoyed at the interruption, but a small grin appeared on her face when she spotted Larson.

“Horses need shoes, and it seems that most folks want dwarves and humans to forge the more interesting items. Welcome back, Larson, how did that armor work out for you, and before you answer, give it here, I can see the damage already,” Felica greeted him with a gimme motion. Larson shucked off the armored vest he wore, the exotic materials had held up well to combat, but there were a few damaged areas that needed attention.

Needing to swim as well as move about on land lent itself to some unique requirements for his armor and Felicia had fashioned something that fit those needs perfectly. The leather for the armor was made from the hide of a dire shark, while rings were made from something called steelwood. It came from a tree grown in an area of high magic, the steelwood was light but strong, perfect for what Larson had used it for. He had a hold full of regular steel, but if he could get this type of armor for his crew, it would be a good match.

“I ran across something you might be interested in, how are you set for materials, especially steel?” Larson asked.

“Fine for what I have to work on currently, mostly I’m using simple iron to make horseshoes, but I do have a couple of orders for steel farm tools. Supplies of raw materials take some time here on the island, but if you’re not in too big a hurry, I can probably make whatever you need,” Felicia told him.

“Well, the prize I took has a hold full of steel. I may not be an expert, but it appears to be of good quality, and I’d be willing to part with some of it in exchange for some work,” Larson offered.

“I wouldn’t be averse to some kind of deal, what exactly did you need me to make?” Felicia asked.

“Mostly fittings for the ships, Bug Bartholomew will fill you in on specifics, and I’ll also need more weapons for the crew,” Larson answered.

“I’ll give you half off if you provide the materials,” Felicia said, giving the opening offer.

“I’d need more than that, after all, you can use the scrap for other things and cut down on material expense on other projects. How about we go with an 80% discount, that seems fair,” Larson countered.

“That may be fair somewhere, but here in reality, my time is worth more than that. I should also mention that I need more than steel to make what you’re asking, there will be leather for the handles, wood, flux, the works. The best I can do is a 60% discount,” Felicia told him.

“Why don’t we say a 75% discount, and I’ll let you take some extra steel to make up for the other materials you’ll be using?” Larson asked.

“Fine, I’ll need some coin upfront once you give me a list of what you need, also, I’ll head out to the ship to look over the steel. If it’s garbage, the deal’s off, and if it’s good steel, I’ll need your crew to haul it here to my shop,” Felicia said.

“Done, here’s some coin to get things started, oh, one other matter. How difficult would it be to get more of that steelwood, and dire shark hide? I want my crew kitted out in similar armor if it isn’t too expensive,” Larson asked. He passed the smith a hundred landsmen gold to get things started. From the shocked expression she tried to hide, Larson figured the halfling hadn’t had too many large orders recently.

“Steelwood’s not too difficult, but the hide can get expensive. There may be some alternative to the shark hide, I’ll check on it and let you know. Here, this is done, the rings are fine, I just had to splice repairs for a couple of the attachment loops,” Felicia advised, handing back the armor. While they had been talking her hands had never stopped fiddling with the armor, fixing the minor damage it had picked up during his absence.

“Thanks, I’ll have a work detail ready to move the steel over when you need it. If anything comes up or you have any questions, just leave word at the ship, the crew will make sure I get the message if I’m not aboard,” Larson said. He was glad to hear the blacksmith was willing to work with him, sharing the steel was going to help him keep more coin in his pocket while still getting his ship and crew equipped properly.

With his immediate tasks done, Larson made his way back to the Sea Venom. The docks were as busy as ever as the afternoon turned to evening. Despite being set loose in the city with a full coin purse, several sailors remained on duty to watch over the ships, including Ibn and one of his marines. Shada and a work party were loading some supplies aboard and he found out Tarley was still out looking for potential buyers for the Lost Soul.

“Sir, Lucian was able to get us some of the things we need, and while he didn’t have enough victuals to supply both ships, he gave us a contact inside the city that will give us a fair deal. I was just about to take Quix and hit some of the nearby taverns to look for additional crew, care to join us?” Shada asked.

“Don’t mind if I do, while we’re out, maybe we can stop by Lucian’s place, apparently we’re invited to a party at Lord Mox’s estate and the invitation was very specific that proper attire is required. I also have to figure out who to take with me, the invitation was plus one. I’m pretty sure I don’t want to bring Bug Bartholomew to this sort of thing, any other volunteers among my esteemed ship’s officers?” Larson asked.

“Not a chance, sir. I wouldn’t know what to do at a party like that, take Ibn, he hobnobbed with sultan’s and the like,” Shada said.

“I don’t mind, in fact, it would be nice to experience some of the more refined culture of this land,” Ibn said.

“I suppose we can see about getting you clothed ‘properly’ as well,” Larson said, happy to have a volunteer.

“Not necessary, as the first blade of the desert, proper attire was expected, and despite the hardships I faced before coming into your employ, I have a more than adequate outfit to wear to the event. I might suggest you make finding a proper haberdasher a priority, they can be a bit finicky and don’t like to do rushed work,” Ibn suggested.

“Fine, while I’m out looking for crew with Shada, we’ll find somewhere to make me an outfit,” Larson grumbled. Buying armor and gear were exciting enough, buying useless and expensive clothing, wasn’t.

Crewman Jacil joined Larson and Shada to hit up a likely tavern. He could speak to the prospective recruits about how Larson had treated his crew. Getting a fair shake as a sailor wasn’t as common as Larson had thought, and apparently, many captains liked to work their crews ragged and often refused to pay the agreed-upon wage, ditching the previous crew and sailing off to the next destination with new unsuspecting sailors.

In his old life, Larson was sure there would have been quite a commotion over a naga, an orc, and a halfling walking down the dock, but here, few gave them more than a second glance. Images from his memory were few and far between, but none of them revealed anything other than humans. His new body was powerful and becoming more natural to him by the day, but he still thought of his slithery movements as “walking” and doubted that would change, it was hardwired into him.

“Sir, this here is the Bronze Weasel, a popular place among the sailors. They don’t water their drinks down much, but don’t order the food if you value your good health,” Jacil said, leading them down a small alleyway toward a large double door with a pair of bored-looking bouncers posted outside.

“Nice place,” Shada said as a pair of drunk sailors stumbled out the establishment and promptly deposited all they had drunk that night into the nearby gutter.

“Yeah, the clientele is a bit dodgy, but those are the ones most likely to sign on, I’m sorry to say,” Jacil admitted.

“Just for now, Jacil, it won’t be long before we have the pick of the litter once word makes it out about how we treat our crew,” Larson claimed, nodding toward the bouncers who waved them in. Once inside, he was hit with the heat of the fireplaces combined with the scent of spilled alcohol and a stench he couldn’t quite define but suspected it was the cooking that Jacil had warned him about.

“There’s a table, I’ll get us some drinks,” Jacil said.

“Hold up, this is official ship’s business, so I’ll take care of the expense,” Larson advised, pushing over a small pile of fins and scales for Jacil to use.

“Good call, sir, a few free drinks might make prospective crewmen a bit more open to signing on with us,” Jacil advised.

“What do we do? This doesn’t exactly look like the kind of place I’d make a speech and gather the throngs of the willing,” Larson asked.

“Nah, leave it to me sir, I’ll make the rounds and see what I can scare up. Enjoy your drinks and try to look like a captain, you know, kind of angry but fair,” Jacil told him, running to flag down a server before he began to make the rounds in the packed tavern.

“What did he mean by that? How do you look angry but fair?” Larson asked, frowning as he tried to figure out the halfling’s suggestion.

“I think you’re doing it now, sir,” Shada quipped, causing Larson to scowl a bit more. A server brought the pair large mugs of ale, and while the brew was good enough, the cleanliness of the drinking vessels left something to be desired.

By the time Larson was finishing his second drink, Jacil had already identified and talked up three or four prospective crewmen. Larson had him take the prospects to the Sea Venom and Lost Soul to give them an idea of where they would be working. Larson made sure they all knew they were signing on to be privateers and that combat was almost guaranteed. A place like Stratwall Harbor was harsh, attracting inhabitants that were just as harsh, and few of the prospects seemed daunted by the prospect of battle in the near future. Tarley could run them through their paces, and help separate the wheat from the chaff.

Larson waved off the server’s offer a meal, and instead, ordered his third drink, a naga’s impressive constitution resulted in Larson not even feeling the alcohol he had consumed so far. Shada seemed content to nurse her first drink while the pair enjoyed a break, taking time to just people watch and enjoy a drink in the company of one of his officers.

“Sir, I think we should leave, now,” Shada said, her face going pale as she tried to hide behind her cup.

“What’s going on? You look like you’ve seen a ghost?” Larson asked, taking a quick scan for threats as he summoned his spear and shield. Most of the guests of the Weasel were armed, so his weapons didn’t draw any undue attention. A trio of armored men approached the table, all three resting hands on the hilts of their short swords, letting him know they were ready to use them. They were dressed in a uniform of some sort, Larson’s limited knowledge of the land keeping him from identifying exactly who or what these men belonged to.

“Sir, don’t fight, please. I’ll deal with this,” Shada said, realizing that the trio was too close for them to make a break for it.

“Well, well, well, lads, it looks like we’ve stumbled upon a little lost lamb, haven’t we? Corporal Shada, did you really think that we forgot about you, forgot what you did? You had to know that you couldn’t just run off and think that old Sergeant Wrend and Ignominia would leave well enough alone,” the scarred man said, his hand tightening on the hilt of his sword, but still not drawing the weapon. These didn’t look like common street thugs that he could handle with little effort, no, these were trained and experienced soldiers, Larson began to believe that he and Shada might be in trouble.